Drodegasm!
by capnnerefir
Summary: A bored Drode has decided to take Animorphs characters and use them to spice up the plots of other stories that he finds boring. Rated M for verious reasons; mostly because I don't want to hold back. Innuendos, probably drugs, and some language. But funny
1. Soooo bored! I need spice!

Hey, readers. I decided to do the last thing anyone ever expected me to do. In sharp contrast to my other Animorphs fics, this one is a comedy; at least, I find it funny. You'll probably get some mild amusement out of it. It may seem a bit OOC, but I think that's just because it's narrated by my 2nd favorite character: the Drode; and in my opinion, he's just kind of a weirdo.

This takes place after my book 59 but isn't canon with my other fics.

* * *

"This is so **boooring**," I complained for, quite literally, the ten millionth's time. "Everyone in this universe is boring. Even their crimes are boring. Why do I have to watch this?" No, I'm not some whiny kid complaining to my parent or teacher. Maybe I should explain.

I call myself the Drode. I'm a semi-quasi-mostly-omnipotent being. To me, crossing ten billion light-years is like getting up to go the 'fridge. I could destroy entire planets if my master would let me. But what was I doing with my time? I was supposed to keep watch over the most boring strand of the universe I've ever seen.

"Can't I go back to watching the Animorphs?" I asked Crayak, my master. "Now _that's_ a show!"

"You must keep watch over that other universe, Drode. Someone must alert me to any important presences there."

"Then why don't _you_ do it?"

"Because this is why I keep you around."

"To do your bitch work?"

"Exactly. You're my bitch, Drode; shall I remind you why?"

I shuddered. "No." Oh God no. I shut the hell up and did as I was told. Mostly. See, I was still bored. And when I'm bored, I do stupid things. There's a reason they call me the Wildcard. Two reasons, actually. The first is because that's what I tell them to call me (whoever "them" is; that's grammatically correct damnit!). The second is because I tend to do wild, unpredictable, and allegedly stupid things. I did one of those now.

I yanked on a strand of time; harder than was necessary. There were my two favorite Animorphs: Tobias and Rachel (A/N: This takes place shortly after my book 59, so this is my newer, badass Tobias). "Hey guys. Want to do me a favor?"

Tobias gave me a look. "Kinda in the middle of something here, Drode."

I took a look around. Candles, soft music…no one else anywhere in sight. Just the two of them on the Reliquary. Oh!

I sped up time a bit and came back two hours later. I may work for the guy who is widely interpreted as the most evil creature in the galaxy, but there are some things one man just does not do to another. I'm the Wildcard; not the Cockblock. Whatever else people may say about me, I've never done that.

So, two hours later, they were waiting. "So…what was it you wanted?" Tobias asked me.

This was probably for the best; they'd both be in good moods now. "Basically, Crayak wants me to watch this other universe for him. But it's boring as hell. I want to send some people to shake shit up. Who better than you two?"

"We're kinda busy here," Rachel told me.

"Again? You're freakin' machines!" I high-fived Tobias, earning him a punch in the shoulder from his better half.

"I mean with the war against the One," Rachel reminded me.

"Oh, that." I waved a hand. "I think the One will want to see this, too. It'll keep 'em all amused; me most of all! Think of it as a little vacation."

Tobias looked at Rachel. "You know, I _have_ been under a lot of stress lately. It would be good to get a vacation before we actually started this next phase of the war."Good ole Toby; never exactly the responsible one. Especially not lately. "Where do you want to send us?"

"Nowhere dangerous," I assured them.

"Damnit," Rachel muttered.

"Well…I guess it _could_ be a little dangerous. I could make it more dangerous. Hell yeah; I'll do that. I'll throw the Visser in there; God knows this place needs a good villain. Oh, David to! I love Davey boy!"

Quoth Rachel: "You're the only one."

Quoth me: "Being dead didn't make you any less bitchy."

"Need I remind you," Tobias said to me, "if you piss her off, she might not let me go. You know, the bitch thing and all…"

"I am _not_ a bitch."

"Yeah you are," Tobias and I said simultaneously. "You're a bitch but I like it," Tobias added.

"Hey, that reminds me of a song!" I shouted.

"Are you high?"

"Just a little; it's legal where I live. Okay, so I've got the two of you, da Vissah, and Day V. Boi. This is going to be so much fun!"

"Does Crayak know about this?" Tobias asked.

"I'll take care of the giant one-eyed monster," I said. "Great, now I sound like Rachel." She broke a glass on the side of my head. It didn't hurt much, what, with me being semi-nearly-quasi-omnipotent-esque in terms of power. And kinda high. "Yep," I sighed, "still a bitch. Tobias, is this really worth it for you?"

He looked me in the eye. "Drode? Perhaps you've forgotten: Rachel's a gymnast."

Oh. Yeah, I had forgotten that. "You sly bastard. So what'd ya say? You ready to make the universe a lot more fun?"

Tobias shrugged. "What the hell? Count me in; you only live once."

"Speak for yourself," Rachel corrected. "I'm in, too. Where are we going, anyway?"

I laughed and then started dicking with the strands that held the universe together. "Oh, you'll see. This is going to be hilarious."

* * *

Thoughts? Comments? Suggestions? 24 hour seasaw marathons? R&R this one please; feedback will probably be heeded this time!


	2. Yep: I'm a douchebag

If you're easily offended (or if you like Harry Potter), it's probably best not to read this.

* * *

I did my funky thang, twisted up he strands of the universe like dreadlocks, and BAM bitches, suddenly the magician and his lovely assistant found themselves in a totally different universe. Well, not totally different. Just different enough that they'd be completely thrown off. Yeah; I'm a bastard.

I decided to watch Tobias wake up. That'd be funniest. He rolled out of bed and grabbed the nearest sharp object. In this case, it was an unusually long needle that some idiot was using for sewing. I wish that word was spelled differently.

Wait a minute, I'm the Drode! I can do what I want (when Crayak lets me). From now on, the word formerly spelled sewing is now sowing. Like snowing, but without the n, and with a totally different meaning. And yeah, I know that sowing is already taken. Does it look like I give a damn? Anyhow...

Tobias looked over the room. It was cluttered, like any heterosexual teenager's room would be. Unlike any heterosexual teenager's room, though, there was one bed; with two guys in it. They looked to be about sixteen.

"You two. Wake up. Now. Tell me where we are, who you are, etc. Now. Chop chop; or it's chop chop," he added, swinging the sowing (note the spelling) needle.

One of the boys rolled out of the bed. He had kinda shaggy black hair and a scar on his forehead. "Well, I'm Harry Potter-"

"GOD FUCKING DAMNIT DRODE!" Tobias roared at the top of his lungs. "You know how much I hate this series! No. I'm not doing this. Send me back to my own time."

I didn't answer. Maybe now he was realizing why I needed to spice this place up. Without some intervention, it. Sucked. Ass. Big time.

What's that? How do you even suck ass? Well, there's a video I saw once, but I then killed the race that produced it. Needless to say, you probably don't want to see it. And if you do, you're a sicker bastard than I am.

Hmm... Every time I say 'needless to say', I still say it. That's kinda ridiculous, isn't it? I should cut that out. But I probably won't. Nah, I definitely won't. Needless to say, I don't care.

Anyhizzeys...

Tobias sighed and slumped against the wall. "Fine. Be a bigger douche than the Ellimist ever was. Hey, you, the fag with the scar. Where's the phone in this place?" Then he shook his head. "Not that it would do any good. I have no idea where Rach is."

The two kids were looking at each other now. "Uh...mate?" The redhead began, "What are you going on about? And wha'ts some Yank doin' in my bedroom?"

"I don't need to put up with this from some kids," Tobias muttered.

"Kids?" Harry questioned. "We're the same age you are."

"Bullshit." Then Tobias found a mirror. "Fuck you, Drode. Why'd you have go to and make me into a kid?"

Again, I didn't answer. The reason, of course, was because it would piss him off. I assumed he'd figure that out sooner or later.

"So...," Ron began, "are you a wizard, too?"

"Fuck if I know. Hey, could you find someone for me with magic?"

"Yeah, I think so. It's a simple use of the-"

"Good. Go and find me a hot, blond chick named Rachel. You'll know it's the right one because when your friend make awkward sexual advances on her, he'll be unconscious."

The kids said something in what was probably supposed to be Latin because whoever created this universe was too damn lazy to borrow from a more obscure language. A few minutes passed, during which Tobias started taking his anger out on random bits of furniture. At some point, a girl a few years younger came in and started to say something, but decided to wait until later to deal with it.

Then they reappeared, with Rachel and some girl whose hair kinda reminded me of something I found while cleaning out the drain in the bathroom. The redhead was unconscious.

Rachel looked around the room. "I take it you're even more pissed off to be here than I am?"

"Damn right. You know no one hates this shit more than I do."

"Try to keep the cursing to a minimum. Sara reads these books you know."

"More like you read them to her and force me to hide out nearby because you can only slog through this crap thanks to my sarcastic comments."

"Tomato-tomato," Rachel said. For the record, the second one was pronounced "tomahto", but it's kind of hard to tell that when I write it. Damn, the English language sucks. Too much work. Maybe I should switch to Mandarin Chinese; it's so much simpler.

Nah, I don't think the Chinese government would let this into the country. I'll stick with the English for now. You cool with that? I thought so.

"How can we get out of here?" Tobias wondered. "I'm not sticking around any more than I have to."

"The Drode wants us to spice it up," Rachel answered him. The others remained silent, because they had become background characters and in this world they effectively were nonexistent until the universe needed to pull a _Deus ex Machina_ out of her ass because she wrote herself into a corner. Again...and again...and again...and again... A nice MacGuffin always helps, too.

"How do we do that?"

"You know what we have to do."

"No. Don't say it."

"Gotta. We have to go to that school."

"Fuck school."


	3. Welcom to Hell, kiddies!

Heeey! Guess what kiddos (who are hopefully aware that lil story is M rated and therefore are not actually kiddos in the traditional sense of the word, but I hate tradition, so screw that and let's get this thang rollin' like a blunt before you forget what I was saying at the beginning of this paragraph; oh, look, it's too late, you've already forgotten, haven't you? Yeah, you have. You know, Salinger did something like this in a neat little thing I just read recently. If I could remember the title, I'd definitely recommend it to you.): it's time for another round of me being bored as hell!

I decided to try sumfin a little different this time. I'm gonna replace all the horrible, filthy, disgusting, wonderful, glorious curse words with those of the first items I see when looking around my desk. Don't like it? Well _bacon_ you, 'cause I'm doing it anyway, _cookie_. And just so you don't confuse them with their innocuous original meanings, I'm going to write the replacement words all slanty like; which, trust me, is hard to do with a pencil and paper even if you have access to several different dimensions. Nawmean?

Now, I could go on here describing the sort of hell Tobias and Rachel went through waiting to get off to that school (which, honestly, will probably be even more unpleasant for them), but I won't. Because it's boring. I mean... why the hell would you care what they were doing? I don't give a _kumquat_ about their meaningless conversations or that stuff...

I think they probably went out and bought _kumquat_ for school, but, again, why would you possibly want to hear that part of the story? I mean, do you want to know every time the old lady at that house goes out for groceries? Nah? Then why the hell would I tell you about their school shopping? It was uneventful. They went out, bought some stuff, Tobias and Rachel did it in an alley, they bought some more stuff, they went home. Not a story worth telling.

Anyhow, after a never-actually-defined chunk of time _pen_ing around that place, they went off to the school. Would you like me to describe the train ride there? Too _bacon_ing bad; that was boring. I figured that the two of them would at least make out in the bathroom or something, but it didn't happen. They slept, because being in this universe makes us all narcoleptic.

After...God it felt like forever, didn't it? I mean, take it from a guy who is basically immortal: that felt like forever. Anyhow, after about 200 pages of meaningless drabble, they finally, FINALLY ended up at that school. Which, for some reason, is able to remain in operation despite not exacting tuition fees. And it's certainly too prestigious to be funded by the government. If you ask me, that stereotypical old guy in charge of the place is doing some shady business.

I'm betting it's kiddie porn. You know that old guy's gay? Now, I'm not some kind of homophobe, but if you ask me, an old gay man only becomes a school teacher for one reason. Use your imagination. And then rip your eyeballs out. I'll wait.

* * *

Okay, if you're reading this, you have obviously ignored my instructions to rip your eyeballs out (seeing as how, as far as I know, this is not available in Braille) or to use your imagination. Although I hate it when people don't do what I tell them to do (it really _pen_s me off), that was probably the best decision, so I'll let it go.

Anyhow (note, reader, that this feels like it's taking forever for something to happen, doesn't it? Now you know what I've been dealing with in this universe. It's intolerable!), they ended up at this suspiciously nice and free school.

Then it was time for everyone to gather around in a big mass like this was some sort of occult ritual and...well, perform some sort of occult ritual. That gay old guy started calling kids up, one by one, to sit in his 'special chair' and put a 'magic hat' on their heads.

I'll admit that the hat kinda tripped me out. I mean, that som_cookie_ was freakin' talking! I don't know about you, but my clothes don't do that. Sure, some of them have some words on them. Like, I got this pair of jeans that say "lucky you" on the fly when you pull down the zipper. But that's about it. And those are the only pants I have with zippers. I'm a button-fly kinda guy. It's...much less terrifying.

So they sat there for a few hours (I mean, it had to be a few hours, right? That place is freakin' huge. No wonder they use slave labor to keep it running. Then again, I guess you kind of have to use slave labor when you don't have any money coming in except for what some gay old guy makes selling child pornography... Hmm... Maybe this place isn't so bad after all.), they finally called the 'morphs up.

"Tobias... Um... I'm sorry, I can't read this. What's your last name?"

"I have no idea," Tobias admitted. "For some reason, a lot of people think its Fangor. I don't know why. I mean, all record of that guy's existence was wiped from the face of the Earth, so my mom definitely wouldn't have had that last name and neither would I. And it's not like I'm so ungrateful to my stepfather that I'd just drop his name because it turns out that some alien I met one time had a different name."

"Wait," Rachel butted in. "Santorelli was your stepfather, right? So wouldn't that make you Tobias Santorelli?"

"Shut up!" Tobias hissed. "No one's put that together yet. Thank Drode this isn't canon."

"Um...anyhow," the gay old guy (hence forth known as GOG) resumed, "You have to come and put this old garment on your head so it can read your brain and decide which group of kids you're going to be sleeping with for the next seven years. Or however long this place stays open. If the feds shut down my child pornography business, we're all _bacon_ed.."

I KNEW it! Okay, so he didn't actually say that last part. But he was thinking it.

Tobias shrugged and put the thing on his head. _Hmm..._ Don't ask how I can know what the hat was thinking. I'm allowed to be a third person omniscient narrator! _I think I'm going to put you in Gryffondore...or however the hell that's spelled._

_Why there?_ Tobias asked.

_That's where we put all the main characters. See, we feel that such attributes as intelligence, loyalty, and...uh...evil, I guess, since we never really defined criteria for Slytherine other than that everyone from there isn't good... are basically worthless. If you're not some idiot who doesn't think things through and yet somehow Forrest Gumps his his way to the top of the food chain, you're worthless._

_You don't even think about where you put people, do you?_

_Um...no, no I don't. I put all the main characters in the same house and then everyone else can basically just to to hell. In fact, most of the Griphondor people can, too._

_Have you ever considered the repercussions of sorting people by personalities? You're just breeding elitism and separation. How do you expect your little magical community to have any sort of unity if you go out of your way to segregate them?_

_Uh..._ "Griffondoor! And I suggest gagging this one, he's trouble! He's questioning the establishment! And not in the way we like it. He's analyzing our system."

GOG waved his 'magic wand' (and I don't want to think about some of the stuff he's used that for. I mean, Freud would die if he saw this place. I mean, could that be any more phallic? Not unless it was a giant _dildo_. Oh, sorry. I meant to replace the word "dildo", but, like I said, I'm replacing words with the first thing I see. Don't ask why I have that, it's none of your damn business, _cookie_. So _bacon_ off and stay out of my sex life, got it?) and a gag materialized over Tobias's mouth.

"I'm definitely remembering that one," Rachel muttered. Whether it was to shut Tobias up or because she was into kinky stuff I don't know for sure. But I will say this: Tobias is kind of a quiet guy...

Rachel had a slightly different experience with that weird freaky talking hat thingy. _So... I can't help but notice that there are, like, four black people in this place. Any special reason?_

_Um... I'm sure it's just a coincidence._

_Yeah, a fancy school like this... where you go out of your way to breed elitism... And I can't help but notice all your teachers are white, too..._

_Look, girl, what do you want me to say?_

_Just admit that you're a racist._

_I am no such thing! And...um...uh...er...you... You need to stop having unprotected sex!_

_Don't tell me what to do. I'm sure that won't come back to bite me in the ass any time._

***cough*foreshadowing*cough***

_Can I just shout out the same house I always do and get out of your mind now? Some of this kinky stuff is really freaking me out. I mean...now I can never look at an aluminum baseball bat ever again!_

_See what happens when you read people's minds?_

"Griphundur! Now for God's sake get me off her head!"

Remind me to have a conversation with that hat later; I want to hear those stories. Seriously, if someone doesn't remind me, I'll _cookie_ about it for the rest of this story. Seriously, I'll _bacon_ing do it.

After that, it was time for a nice big feast. Tobias enjoyed that part because he usually has to eat Rachel's food and Rachel's cooking...how can I put this... **SUCKS**! Yeah, that's a good word for it. I mean, seriously, when Crayak wants to jack with someone and make their life a living hell, he's incorporated her cooking into part of the routine. My suggestion, by the way. See? I don't get paid for nothing.

"So...what do you do for fun around here?" Tobias asked one of the kids; that one with the ridiculous scar, shaggy hair, and the glasses that, let's face it, he's just not pulling off. Not even close. A note to the English: just because you're from his country DOES NOT mean you can pull off John Lennon's look.

Not even if the author was in love with him when she was a little girl and wishes she could lay him so she makes her main character look like him. I know I can't possibly be the first person to see that... JOHN LENNON WILL NOT BE THE FATHER OF THE CHILD YOU NEVER HAD!

"Well, we sneak out after hours a lot," he began.

"Good. What do you do?"

"Um...I guess we go the library and read banned books a lot."

Tobias and Rachel shared a look. He turned back to Harry (any relation to George **Harr**ison? None whatsoever; sometimes I forget he's even a Beatle...). "Um...do you ever go out drinking?"

"Sure. Sometimes we sneak out through these little tunnels under the school. We go into town and have Butterbeer."

"What's the proof on that?"

"Oh, well, it's non alcoholic."

"You've got to be _kumquat_ing me. You expect me to believe that kids your age, with magical powers and access to secret tunnels, who are always sneaking out at night, go several miles underground just to get some nonalcoholic _kumquat_ you could just get from a vending machine if you weren't so magocentric that you can't stand the thought of installing even one bit of non-magical stuff here?"

"Um...now that you mention it, that _does_ sound rather far-fetched."

Rachel tapped Tobias on this shoulder. "I should probably remind you that we were sixteen-year-old war heroes who didn't drink or curse..."

"This isn't about us. At least our world is full of interesting stuff." He turned back to the Ringo Star clone (except this kid could never grow up to play Mr. Conductor on Thomas the Tank Engine, now could he?). "Okay...so where do kids go to make out and stuff?"

"We usually just kiss each other in the hallways."

"Great, but I'm more interested in the 'and stuff' part."

Harry gasped. "We don't do that here! We don't even consider it. Or think about it. Or talk about it. Or even acknowledge that such a thing could possibly happen between two human beings."

"So basically you're a bunch of teenagers who sneak out to read books, drink non-alcoholic stuff when you could far more easily get your hands on some hard liquor, and have no sex drive whatsoever. Is that what I'm to understand?"

"Uh...pretty much, yeah."

"Then what the hell do you DO for seven hundred pages!?"

"Um...we usually find a way to almost-kind-of-not-quite-get ourselves killed once a year."

"Once a year? And it takes you seven hundred pages to do that? God damn! It takes us one-hundred and twenty, in big font with small pages, and we usually come with two or three new ways to do it every time! What the hell are we supposed to do here? Where are Esplin and David? The Drode promised they'd be here."

Um...ignore that last sentence. I seem to have lost track of them. But you didn't really miss them, now did you? Nah, I didn't think so.

Rachel turned to him. "Wanna _bacon_?"


	4. Drode plus vacation means bad narration

Okay, a few things here. I'm not the Drode. I'm Crayak. See, the Drode decided that now was a good time to take his vacation. So, while he's off having fun ass raping Gungans on Naboo, I'm stuck doing all his bitchwork. Err...well, okay, most of it is actually my own bitchwork, but I'm also stuck keeping an eye on this weird little mess he made. I'm supposed to keep you informed.

Before I start, the Drode left a note I was supposed to read to you.

"_Heya, kiddos. Few things. First, I'm very, very disappointed in you. Not a single one of you reminded me to ask that hat about the kinky stuff he read in Rachel's brain! Shame on you. Did you think I was joking? Well, I wasn't. And I'm going to bitch about it forever. I hope you're happy._

_-DaDrode_

_P.S. Bossman, don't forget to replace curse words with the first thing you see."_

Oops. Okay, I'll start doing that now.

"_P.P.S. Guraff isn't in this one. It started being written before he was introduced to the series."_

Well that's just...I think I'm going to have to do something about that... Don't you miss him? I know I do. But I guess that's a problem for another time.

Anyhow, I think I was supposed to be watching Tobias and Rachel. But to be honest, they didn't do nearly enough interesting stuff. Skipped classes, were sarcastic to teachers, had sex in the bathrooms, mess with the Queerdick team – er, sorry. Quiddich team, laugh when they tried to give Tobias flying lessons, have sex in the aviary, morph some sort of weirdass animal that I wasn't paying enough attention to learn the name of, and have sex in the woods. That's about it.

...What do you mean I have to change the word "weirdass"? That's not cursing...

...Fine. Don't you look at me like that! I'll change it next time I say it. Right; now, where was I?

Oh, right. The kids were kind of boring me. Maybe it amused the Drode; he'll probably tell you about it when he gets back. I decided to find something more interesting. And I did! Remember how the Drode said he'd bring in the Visser and David? … Well he _did_. So I decided I'd find them. And, being...well...meh...it wasn't too hard.

...Also, ignore the overuse of the ellipsis...It's kind of hard to be a writer when **I DON'T HAVE ANY ARMS. **So cut me some leeway, will you?

Moving right along, I poked my big giant eyeball around until I found these two _kleenex_es_._ They were basically just wandering around in the woods. Well, Visser Three was. David was all rat-like and riding on his back.

Visser Three was yelling when I found him. But that's not unusual. He must have MASSIVE blood pressure. Maybe. Or maybe not. Would his natural rage as a Yeerk translate to his host? I could probably figure it out, being a nearly omnipotent being. But I really don't care...

((I swear to Crayak-)) HEY! That's me!!! ((-that I will stab the next person who calls me a centaur.))

Duly noted. Ima holdja to that, Viss.

((...Do you stop talking?)) David asked. ((Like...ever? I mean...why is it that a guy who not only lacks a mouth and vocal cords in his natural form but also in the host he's stolen, never seems to shut the hell up? It boggles the mind.))

((Your mind is easily boggled.))

((I boggled your mother's mind.))

Esplin stopped and glared over his shoulder at David with one stalk eye. ((My mother died giving birth to me.))

((Oh...sorry, I didn't mean-))

((PSYCH! Well, no, not really. She's dead. That's how it goes with Yeerks. Why do you think I have no mates?))

((Because no one wants to _whip_you?))

((I could get _whipped_ any time I wanted to!))

((Says the old man hiding in the somewhat younger man's body. Who would you even _whip _anyways?))

((Anyone I wanted to! I'm a famous warlord who-))

((-Is nowhere near a female with the same body he currently inhabits,)) David finished. ((Unless you're into Hork-bajir chicks, you've got no options.))

((Tell that to your mother.))

((...where _is_ my mother anyways?))

((...you know...that was never addressed. It just sort of seems like you forgot about your parents completely once you were restored to civilized life.))

((But that's just in this random side thingy, right? I mean...capnnerefir would never overlook something like that in his 'canon' series, right?))

((Actually...I'm pretty sure he did... Just sort of completely ignored that issue.))

...Don't look at me. I'm just Crayak. capnnerefir and I have very little to do with each other. I'll bring it up with the Drode when he gets back; capnnerefir seems to like him.

((And while we're at it, there's some other things I don't get,)) David continued. ((Like all that Jeanne-Tobias chemistry in the beginning of Neomorphs. What happened to that? I mean...there was a trace of it in the Liberation, but-))

((Can we not talk about that book? And besides, you're thinking of the Homecoming.))

Heh...coming. Wait; I spelled that wrong.

((Fine, fine. But you see my point?))

((Yes, David, I see your point,)) Visser Three muttered, continuing through the forest. Sorry; thought I should add something a little extra to the dialogue. Like salt on fries. Or vodka to pancake batter. ((But what I'd really like to know is why he keeps halfway suggesting Jordan's going to be an Animorph and then completely dropping her. And what's the deal with you and Sara?))

((How can we even be having that conversation? If that's even happened yet, it would mean I'm on the Animorphs side again, in which case I wouldn't be here with you.))

((...))

((...))

…

...Let's just pretend you didn't hear any of that, okay? No need for us to go pointing out the flaws in capnnerefir's writing, right?

((But what _really_ gets me,)) Visser Three continued, ((is how the first few books were basically making love to Tobias. I mean _seriously_. There are other characters in the series! Please use them!))

((Yeah. And just once, _just once_, it'd be nice if he quoted something _other_ than the Art of War. We get it! Sun Tzu kicked ass! Now can we hear from someone else? Maybe someone who _wasn't_ Chinese?))

((Well, we get to hear from Streetlight Manifesto...))

((Does anyone even listen to them?))

((I very much doubt it,)) the Visser admitted. ((Now, another thing, I want to know is-))

You know what? This part went on for a good couple of days. It's...really not worth mentioning, now that I think about it. Let's skip forwards a few days to when they reached Hogsmead. Or whatever the name of that village is. You know; the one full of racists – err, I mean wizards.

They were standing just beyond the edges of the village, trying to decide how to go in. ((How do you think they will react to an Andalite?)) the Visser asked.

((Hard to say. I think we should probably fornicate a plan.))

((...Could you repeat that?))

((I think we should probably formulate a plan,)) David said slowly. ((What did you think I said?))

((I thought you said we should fornicate.))

((...Dude...I'm a _whipping_ rat! You'd probably kill me!))

((Not if you were the dominant one, then- Wait; I really don't want to have this discussion.))

((If I was the dominant one-))

You know what? I'm going to skip forwards another ten minutes or so to the end of this.

((So we go in as ourselves then?)) the Visser asked.

((Yeah. Worst case scenario, they think you're a centaur and I'm Bolts the Magic Talking Rat.))

((I still don't know why you want me to address you as Bolts in public...))

((If you had a pet rat, why the hell would you name it David?))

((Fair enough. Let's roll, _kleenex._))

((...))

((What?))

((Did you have to insult me? I thought we were making progress in our relationship.))

((This coming from the rat who wanted to fornicate.))

((Let's just go!))

They entered the town as their natural selves. The Visser walked through as though he had some sort of purpose in life. Which, we know, is a load of _pepsi_. Yeah; Pepsi's my brand. That shouldn't surprise you. Anyhow, like I said: his life is pointless. ((Esplin...where are we going?))

((The nearest tavern. I need a drink.))

((Drink...how?))

((Hoof plus bottle equals happiness.))

I really hope that's the only thing he's putting in that bottle.

((I really hope that's the only thing you're putting in that bottle.))

Oooh! Bolts agrees with me!

The Visser entered the tavern and strolled up to the bar. The old wizard behind it looked him over. "And what can I do for you, friend centaur?"

((_Whip_ this _pepsi_, I AM NOT A _WHIPING_ CENTAUR!)) the Visser roared. This tail flashed in the candlelight. Before anyone could react, the blade was buried in the bartender's clavicle. ((Do I LOOK like a CENTAUR to YOU!?))

"...a little bit, yeah," someone muttered.

((_Kleenex_, kill him for me.)) David did not move. ((Well, don't just stand there!))

((You called me _kleenex_,)) David muttered quietly. ((I don't like it when you yell at me. When you yell at me, I shut down inside.))

The Visser rolled all four eyes. Twice. That's eight! Eight eye rolls! Hahahahaha!

What? I was channeling the Count. ST_W_U, _kleenex_!

((It was a mistake. I meant to say Bolts.))

((Bull_pepsi_.))

((Will you just morph and kill him?))

((Who died and put you in charge?))

((Edriss.)) The Visser started laughing loudly. No one joined in. ((What? Too soon?))

((No, it's just...A lot of people liked her and stuff.))

((I never understood why...))

((Me neither. And what was the deal with Closet?))

((Don't even _mention _that. Thank Crayak that fad's over.))

I had nothing to do with it, but you're welcome.

((I don't know. Some of it was funny.))

((Only due to it's absurdity! Now, if you're talking about-))

"What the hell are you two talking about?" Someone got the nerve up to ask.

((Bolts, will you just kill him so we can finish our conversation?))

((You could pull your blade out and do it yourself before I could morph,)) David pointed out.

((Esplin Nine-Four-Double-Six _never_ pulls out!))

…

Oh fine; don't laugh. _I_ thought it was funny.

The Visser sighed again. ((I wish Guraff was here..))

You know what? So do I. If only – Hey, wait a minute! I can pull rank on the Drode! He's my _kleenex _after all.

At that point, I paused time and reached across the multiverse to the Neomorphs universe until I found what I wanted. Guraff. The best-selling of all the Neomorphs plushies! Get yours today, just in time for..that...holiday that's...coming up soon!

I dropped him down in the middle of the tavern. A nine-foot tall Hork-bajir. "Holy _pepsi_, it's a demon!"

"**Close enough,"** Guraff muttered.

Aaaaaand I think I'm going to leave you there. I've got _pepsi_ that needs doing. Gina's coming over later tonight and I need to get some stuff cleaned up. Plus I need to buy some...things...for later. ;) Crayak out!


	5. THIS is team evil? That explains it

capnnerefir (who, you know, didn't write this...it was all Drode. ;) ) would like to thank **ahilty** for her help in preparing this chapter.

* * *

Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeya kiddos! I'm back to touch you in a very special way! Don't tell the cops, I won't do well in prison. Not that I'd stay in prison... No prison can hold me! I'm like Peleaokostas. And if you don't know who that is, google the man; interesting story. Dude escaped from a Greek prison by flying out in a helicopter. Twice. Not that I'd probably ever be put on trial. I'm like a politician, but with something that resembles a soul.

Unfortunately, I had a little accident while on vacation. See, I was hunting Gungans (because let's all admit it: if there was ever a race that should be completely genocided, it's the Gungans. That and the – well, you know what? I can't actually make a race joke here without _someone_ crucifying me. Racial tolerance is all well and good for you little mortaly-typeishical people, but let's face it: it's cyanide for comedy. I suppose I could think of something else that everyone hates. I'll get back to you on that later.). I was hunting Gungans with weaponized anthrax spores. And hurt my leg in the process. Don't ask how I hurt my leg with anthrax, explaining it would reveal attempting to teach you about laws of physics that mankind hasn't even discovered yet. Let's just simplify it and say: magic.

Well, my leg was kinda messed up, so I had to have some minor surgery done. And I got some cosmentic stuff done while they were slicing and dicing. You think I'm all wrinkly on purpose? Hells to the no! The Bossman won't spring for a facelift ever few centuries. Also, they think they found several sexually transmitted diseases. Including some new ones that they discovered inside of me right now. I'm oddly proud of that. Also, I am now required by law to inform you all that I'm a convicted sex offender. But that's an even longer story involving a misunderstanding that happened in the hopsicle waiting room. Aaaaaaaaaanywho, I'm in the hopsicle right now, working on a hopsicle computer. Also, I've exceeded the recommended dosage of morphine and jello cups.

This is the part where you say: DRUGS? WEWT!

Before I begin, just one more thing: still, **NO ONE** has reminded me to ask that hat about kinky stuff! What is wrong with you people? Don't you love me anymore?

That said, the Bossman tells me he left you hanging with something involving centaur confusion and Guraff. Since I figure you prolly all wanna see where that goes, I'd normally be a _spoon_ about it and not tell you, but since I'm all morphine'd up Ima just go ahead and tell it. But I'm doing this for me. I love me! If I had a me plushie, I'd huggle it constantly. So much so that even the Bossman would start to get concerned. And he don't give a _pudding_ about anything!

So, to refresh (since I think we all forgot! I know I did.), we ended with a random peon screaming:

"Holy _pepsi_, it's a demon!"

"**Close enough,"** Guraff muttered.

"Demon?" some random dude in a black cloak said. "I think our plan has succeeded! We've opened a portal to Hell!"

((He's not a demon,)) Bolts answered. ((He's just an alien.))

"**Technically, I'm **_**two**_** aliens**," Guraff reminded him.

"Damn immigrants," a man at another table muttered.

((Not that kind of alien.))

"Huh? Oh; I was talking about something else. That's pretty _straw_ing weird, though... Do I need to wear my tinfoil hat to keep you from reading my mind?"

((Does the hat cover your ears?)) the Visser asked.

"As a mater of fact, it does."

((Then as odd as it may sound, that might actually help.))

((I don't know why you use the ear,)) Bolts muttered. ((Wouldn't the nose be more efficient?))

Guraff turned and looked at him. "**Do **_**you**_** want to go and crawl through a Hork-bajir's nose? Or a Taxxon?**"

((I respectfully withdraw my question.))

The black-cloaked man spoke again. "Perhaps you would be of some use to us, then. You clearly have no problem with spilling blood."

((Us?)) the Visser asked. ((Would that be you and all your invisdable friends?))\

((Invisible,)) Bolts corrected. ((His _invisible_ friends.))

((I'm sure it's pronounced 'invisdable'...))

((You're going to argue pronunciation? You don't even have a mouth!))

((Yeah...well...you...um...)) He spent a few minutes searching his brain for something to use. ((Ah hah! You're a rat. That means that you finish within in under than five seconds!))

((I think that puts us about even, then.))

The Visser looked down at the ground, served. "**You were saying?**"

"I am a member of a secret order called the Death Eaters-"

((Telling random aliens that isn't the best way to keep a secret,)) the Visser butted in.

… I'm getting kinda tired of calling him 'the Visser', aren't you? I think Ima just call him Big V.

"**And that cloak must attract some sort of attention**," Guraff added.

"Could I finish?"

((I thought you already did,)) Bolts butted in.

"**Quoting your last date?**" Guraff asked.

OOOOOOOH DAYM, SON!

Bolts got all quiety after that for a few minutes.

The Death Eater shook his head. "As I was saying-"

((You weren't saying 'as' at al! You was saying 'Eaters',)) Big V interrupted.

Death Eater's eye twitched. "We're actually having a secret meeting right now. Perhaps you would like to join us."

((Once again, it's not a secret if you tell everyone.))

For a few moments, the Death Eater just looked from Big V to Guraff to David. Then he shook his head. "We are having a meeting right now," he continued.

"**Shouldn't you be there?**"

"it's right here," he answered. Then he pulled something out of folds of his cloak; or somewhere. It really doesn't matter, now does it? It was a tin lunch box.

((Hey,)) Bolts asked, ((is that the lunch box from the new Zelda game?))

The Death Eater looked at it. "Um...yes, I suppose so."

Bolts stared at it for a few moments. Then, ((That's not the Mastersword.))

"**What?**"

((In his hands. That's not the Mastersword. That's, like, the Giant's knife or something... I hated that weapon. It was made of fail.))

((David? You had best become some sort of rapist, because if that was the first thing that came to mind when this man said "here's my secret meeting" and pulled out a lunch box, you are never, _ever,_ going to get laid.))

((Oh yeah? When was the last time _you_ got any tail? I mean... You were in old-guy Andalite's head for how many years? And how many Andalite-chicks did you come across? Maybe two. And now, here you are in young-guy Andalite; still no _spoon_s on your tip.))

((I could get them if I wanted them,)) Big V mumbled.

Death Eater – is it just me or is that a _terrible_ name for a group of people? - shook his head. "Do you want to come to this meeting or not?"

"**I do not particularly care...**"

((Oh, come on, Guraff; it's something to do, at least. And trust me: there's almost _nothing_ to do here,)) Big V told him. ((When something to do comes along, jump on it like Bolts on Micky Mouse.))

((Micky Mouse is a dude,)) Bolts pointed out. ((Minnie Mouse is the girl.))

Big V shot him a smile with his eyeballs. ((I know.))

At almost the same instant, Guraff muttered, "**I think the only Minnie mouse here is you.**"

Guraff and his bossman looked at each other for a few seconds. Then they slapped their tails together. ((_Spoon_, ya just got served!))

"**No one says that anymore, Esplin,**" Guraff whispered. "**I advise you to cease before you embarrass yourself.**"

Death Eater man-bear-pig cleared his throat. "Are you interested or not?"

((Esplin is always interested in anything a man has to offer him,)) Bolts said quickly. Guraff chuckled, which earned him a wounded look from his BFF.

"Then behold the magic of our Dark Lord!" Deaf Peter (yeah, my new name for that guy.) almost shouted, opening the lunch box. Inside was a narrow trap door. "Um...hang on..." Peter put the box on the floor and then reached down and pulled on a ring on top of it. He pulled on it until he ha d a door almost six feet tall rising out of the lunch box.

((Okay...)) Bolts admitted, ((that's kinda cool.))

I guess every now and then this place gets it right.

"Witness our power!" Deaf Peter said, turning the handle and pushing. The door didn't move. ".....damnit, I forgot where I put the key...It must be somewhere...I'm sure it-"

Guraff shoved him to the side and then kicked in the door, breaking it like a campaign promise. It led into a stone room in some sort of dungeon. Thirteen people in black cloaks (because, you know, they _never_ use another number. How about seven? That's a pretty wicked number. It's kinda sharp looking. 7. 4 works, too! Or 11!) were sitting in chairs surrounding a man who looked like -

((Aww damn it...emo kids,)) David muttered. ((Look at that goth one in the middle. I bet he's all emo because he flunked out of art school or something.))

The emo guy in the middle of the circle looked up at the newcomers. "And who are you?" he demanded. The he raised his hand (which, by the way, held a magic wand. Because apparently it's impossible to do magic without the aid of a few inches of wood. Then again, I guess everyone in this world needs a few extra inches of wood in order to get any 'magic' done.) and said something in an almost offensively garbled offshoot of the once beautiful Latin language. The door repaired itself.

((I am Esplin Nine-Four-Double-Six. You may call me the Visser. Supreme Overlord of the Yeerk Empire and ruler of all I see.))

((Thanks, Yertle,)) David muttered. ((And I'm Bolts the...um...magic...talking rat. This is Guraff. If you took Chuck Norris and added sharp blades, you'd have Guraff.))

"**Who are you?**" Guraff asked. "**And while we're on the subject, why do you live in a box?**"

"I don't live here; I just have meetings in here. As for who I am, I am Lord Voldemort: Dark Lord of the wizarding world!"

((Lord? Is that an official title or just something you like to call yourself?"

"Well, I suppose it's not _technically_ official. I mean, no government actually declared me-"

((So basically, you're no more a Lord than I am a -))

((Heterosexual,)) Big V interrupted.

Bolts looked at him, his beadly lil rat eyeballs looking all hurt-like. ((Couldn't you at least take a shot at Guraff for once?))

((If I wanted six feet of steel in my chest. And four of those feet would probably be my own... Guraff takes insults as a question of his honor. And if you question his honor, may God have mercy on our souls, because Guraff sure as hell won't.))

((Fair enough.))

"**So...'Dark Lord',**" Guraff began, snorting as he said it, "**I suppose you have some sort of shadowy plan to gain control of everything?**"

"Of course! You have already met my Death Eaters-"

((What about his peters?)) Big V asked. ((I thought humans only had one.))

((…..his death...is he going to molest us? Because...we're aliens and a rat. That's kinda messed up.))

"First, I shall gain immortality, which I've already done by splitting my soul into seven pieces. I-"

((Why seven?)) Bolts asked.

"Seven is the most magical number."

Big V rolled his eyes. ((No, that's forty two.))

Guraff – who shall henceforth be known as G-dawg – nodded. "**He's right.**"

"....Yes, you're correct. But do you have any idea how hard it would be to split your soul into forty two pieces?"

"**I could probably do it for you...where's my sword?**"

Bolts shook his head. ((You don't have your sword yet. In fact, this started at 59, when I was still a villain. You shouldn't even be here! We're breaking continuity!"

"**Retcon?**"

((That doesn't solve everything!))

"**Sure it does. I mean, if you can retcon this universe to make that Dumbledore character gay, you can give me a sword.**" I couldn't argue with that logic. So I put his sword in his hands. "**Where did this come from? I did not have it a moment ago.**"

"Oh; stuff like that happens all the time around here. Whenever anyone needs anything, it just sort of shows up somewhere," the emo guy answered. "But yes, I have split my soul into seven pieces."

((Wouldn't that just make you weaker?)) David asked. ((I mean, the law of conservation of ninjitsu states that doing something like that weakens you. You'd be seven times more powerful if you didn't split yourself up.))

Big V turned all four eyes on Bolts. ((LAAAAME Observatory. Nerd.))

"**Okay, so you weakened yourself severely in an effort to keep from being killed, in spite of the fact that if you are as powerful as you seem to think you are, you would be in very little danger no matter what you did. Then what?**"

"Now, I am moving to take control of the wizarding world even as we speak. Soon, my people will control the government."

"**And then?**" G-dawg asked.

"And then what?"

((You mean that's it?)) David demanded. (((That's your entire plan?))

"What more could you ask for?"

Big V turned his stalk eyes to Bolts and his main eyes on G-dawg. ((I think I just figured out why nothing interesting ever happens here. Nothing fun can happen if the main antagonist is as pathetic as this one!))

"**Agreed. On an evil scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being levels of evil reached by the likes of Hitler, Stalin, and the guy who invented telemarketing, this guy rates at about -4.089^10-7.**"

((And that would mean...?)) Bolts asked

"**He's about as evil as a scratch on your three dollar vacation sunglasses**."

"_I'm_ not evil? What are you talk-"

G-dawg jerked his thumb towards Big V. "**His twin brother is a cannibal. He uses the Internet to hunt down children, kill them, rip little alien slugs out of their heads, and consume them. And ****that one's the **_**good**_** twin.**"

"But I-"

((Guraff? Take out this trash. I'm going to get something done in this world. After all, if anything is going to get accomplished, a main character has to do it here. Minor characters are virtually nonexistent when they're offscreen.))

"You can't kill me! I'm the Dark Lord!" He raised his wand and pointed it at Guraff "A_vada kedavra__!_" Or, you know, however the hell you spell it. A green bolt of light jumped out of the wand straight for Guraff. It seemed to hit some sort of invisible field and bounced off, blasting a hole in the floor.

"Why...how...what?"

((I think I know!)) Bolts shouted. ((I read these books. Harry's mother's love protected him from that spell-)) Because apparently no one else's mother loved them... ((-so apparently random intangible forces can do stuff like that. I think the spell just bounced off of Guraff's awesomeness.))

"**That makes sense**," Guraff nodded. Then he casually swung his sword and decapitated Voldemort. The wizard's head rolled to the floor.

"Well, don't just stand there! Attack them!" he shouted to his minions.

One of the Death Eaters looked from the talking, severed head to Guraff and back again. Then he turned into a cat and ran through the hole in the floor. ((What was that about?)) Big V asked.

((Oh, that,)) Bolts answered. ((He was asked to fight Guraff. So he did what anyone would do. He pussied out.))


End file.
